XXVII

How God draws us to himself

Too late came I to love thee, O thou Beauty bothchap. xxvii so ancient and so fresh, yea too late came I to love thee. And behold, thou wert within me, and I out of myself, where I made search for thee: I ugly rushed headlong upon those beautiful things thou hast made. Thou indeed wert with me; but I was not with thee: these beauties kept me far enough from thee: even those, which unless they were in thee, should not be at all. Thou calledst and criedst unto me, yea thou even breakedst open my deafness: thou discoveredst thy beams and shinedst unto me, and didst chase away my blindness: thou didst most fragrantly blow upon me, and I drew in my breath and I pant after thee; I tasted thee, and now do hunger and thirst after thee; thou didst touch me, and I even burn again to enjoy thy peace.

XXVIII

The Misery of this Life

When I shall once attain to be united unto thee inchap. xxviii every part of me, then shall I no more feel either sorrow or labour: yea, then shall my life truly be alive, every way full of thee. Whereas now for that whom thou fillest thou also raisest, am I a burden unto myself, because I am not yet full of thee. The joys of this my life which deserve to be lamented, are at strife with my sorrows which are to be rejoiced in: and which way the victory will incline, I yet